


FF#1: Welcome To Ecuador

by SmoakandArrow



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, olicity - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 07:17:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1679576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmoakandArrow/pseuds/SmoakandArrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver and Felicity's surprise inspection of a QC holding is a surprise, all right.  The kind that ends in bloodshed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	FF#1: Welcome To Ecuador

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is a one part, flash fiction story written as part of the Olicity Flash Fic Challenge going on at Tumblr. It's a free writing challenge with the story "inspired" by the supplied weekly prompt. Flash fics are written, edited and posted in only 60 minutes, so please excuse any typos.
> 
> ***Please Note: This is NOT a continuation of any other story. It's a new entry for the Flash Fic Challenge.***
> 
> I really wanted, when I started writing my first flash fic for this prompt (titled 'The Problem'), to include alternating POVS, one from Oliver and one from Felicity, but the hour goes by so fast. LOL. Halfway through writing that story, it suddenly wanted to go in two different directions. This was the second idea, and since I had another spare hour, I thought what the heck, why not? And, well, here we are. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

_Somewhere in Ecuador…_

Felicity Smoak peered out the window at the edge of the road. Literally. The edge. No comfy gravel shoulder, no gently rolling berm. Nope. One minute the dirt and rock road was there, the next… gone. Just a straight, sheer drop several hundred feet deep nothing and no one could survive. Even the wild goats that dotted the countryside had vanished. The last one they'd passed – several miles back at this point –had watched her roll by in the black SUV with a look that clearly said, "Are you fucking _crazy_?"

Thirty minutes and dozens of miles further up the mountain, Felicity had the funny feeling the goat was right. This was nut. She massaged her temple with her fingertips. No. What was nuts was thinking telepathic communication with Billy Goat Gruff was logical.

Altitude sickness, she decided. She pressed a hand to her stomach. That explained it. The nervousness. The knots in her gut. The strange pounding of her heart, clammy hands, and uneasy prickle at the back of her neck. What had Digg said? Don't exert yourself. Stay hydrated. Focus on your breathing. Above all? Don't panic.

"You know," she murmured just loud enough for the man seated next to her to hear as she tightened her seat belt for the third time. "When they said they wanted to show us the wonders of their country? I didn't think it meant 'I wonder how long it would take to hit bottom if the jeep goes over the edge' or 'I wonder if animals will eat my corpse before anybody finds it.'"

Oliver Queen didn't even look at her, just kept staring straight ahead at their driver and the man in the passenger seat like he wanted to memorize the tattoos on the back of each man's neck. "I told you not to sit by the window," he said.

"It's a car," Felicity felt compelling to point out as she touched her seat belt again. "Both sides have windows."

"Both sides don't put you face first with a canyon." He leaned forward suddenly. "How much further exactly are we going? My secretary gets carsick."

Secretary? She bristled. "I do not—"

Oliver's hand shot to her knee and squeeze. Felicity's mouth shut, but she wasn't sure if it was the shock of the touch or the unspoken command that silenced her.

"I don't know about you," Oliver continued, "but I don't like riding in a hot car, with this humidity, with vomit swimming around my Bruno Magli's. They're very expensive."

Felicity frowned. That was the third time Oliver had pulled the it's-very-expensive-I'm-Oliver-Queen-Billionaire card. He never flaunted. He didn't care enough to flaunt. The man thought sleeping on a bed – any bed – was a luxury. Yet he'd mentioned his suit, his watch, and now his shoes all in the last fifteen miles.

She dragged her attention to the men in the front seat just as they exchanged sideways looks. The knot of unease in her belly drew tighter.

"We're almost there, Senor Queen," the passenger, Carlos Delgado, said, a smile in his tone if not his flat, dark eyes as he twisted around to look at them. "You'll enjoy it. So will your assistant.   Trust us."

Oliver eased back in the seat. He leaned toward Felicity and whispered, "Puke."

"What?"

"Puke. Now. Retch. Gag."

"I—"

"Did you know I once stabbed myself with a needle this long," he whispered to her, holding his thumb and index finger apart a good five inches, "right in the—"

She gagged.

Oliver put his hand on her shoulder and rubbed a reassuring circle. He raised his voice. "You better stop the car."

The two men exchanged looks again. "Senior Queen…"

Oliver released his seat belt, then hers. "Stop the car."

The driver. Hector Perez, sighed and eased up on the gas. Carlos reached for the radio nestled between the seats. "I should call the car ahead and tell them—"

"No time," Oliver interrupted. He shoved his door opened, wrapped his arm around Felicity's waist, and practically dragged her with him as he climbed out.

Felicity stumbled over the uneven ground, but Oliver kept her on her feet, propelled her forward even faster as he glanced back over her head. She heard one car door open, then the other.

"Senior Queen," Carlos called after, "you do not want to go into the jungle."

"It is very dangerous," Hector agreed. "There are jaguars. Many poisonous spiders and snakes."

Felicity jerked to stop as if one would drop in front of her. Oliver poked her in the back. "Keep moving," he hissed, before calling back, "She's embarrassed. Give us a minute."

"Senor Queen." Carlos took a step after them. "I'm afraid I must insist."

Felicity felt tension flood Oliver's muscles. He saw his eyes shift to the trees, to her, back to the men. His jaw tightened. The muscle beneath his left ear ticked. "Try to keep up," he whispered.

The darkness lifted from his face. That charming, slightly-smarmy I'm-Oliver-Queen-Billionaire-Rake smirk curved his mouth as he released her, threw his hands in the air, and started back toward the car. "Women," he groused to the other men. "Forget typing speed.   Next secretary I get saddled with will be picked the way my father picked 'em: long legs and big breasts."

Hector snickered as Felicity gaped at Oliver's retreating back and resisted the urge to fold her arms over her chest.

Oliver hooked his thumb at her over his shoulder. "My mother hired that one," he continued, his eye roll practically audible. "MIT graduate. Total computer geek. Can't take her to any event without her bringing up how she's Eta Kappa Zzzzz. More like Eta Kappa Stick-up-her—"

"Says the guy whose only job skill is beer pong," Felicity fired at his back.

Oliver turned smart on his heel, stepped back toward her. "Excuse me? You still work for me, Miss Smoak. I suggest you watch your —"

" _You_ suggest? How's this for a suggestion?" she demanded, stalking back to him. She poked him in the chest as she rocked up onto her toes. "I quit!"

"You can't quit. You have a contract."

"Then I'll sue for sexual harassment."

"Lady, you'd get laughed out of court," Oliver snorted.

Her eyes narrowed. "Oh, Fe-lic-ity," she mimicked in a nasty sing-song, "come see my yacht. Your eyes will look so beautiful in the moonlight. Oh, Felicity, come to my penthouse and have some champagne while I 'review,'" she air quoted, "these contracts. Have I mentioned how sexy you look today? Oh, dear, I dropped my pen. Could you bend over nice and slow and pick it up for me? Please." She snorted as she tossed her head, her ponytail fluttering around her shoulders. "You're not the charmer you think you are, pal. I don't need a high IQ to figure out sleeping with you would be the biggest, most disappointing moment of my life."

"You'd never be so lucky," Oliver flared back. "Women like you think education is everything. All feministic bullshit when all you really want…"

He kept going but Felicity's attention wavered when she noticed Carlos and Hector move in closer behind Oliver.

"Enough of this," Hector muttered. "Let's just do it here."

"You get the watch," Carlos said. "I get the shoes. Don't get blood on them."

Hector nodded as he took another step, his hand slipping under his jacket and around to the small of his back.

A strange buzzing filled Felicity's ears as her heartbeat suddenly seemed to fill them. A gun. He was going for a gun. Why did he have a gun?

Oliver lunged. Felicity had never seen him move so fast. One minute he was in front of her, ranting about the way she organized paperclips by size and wouldn't make him coffee, and the next he was leaping toward Hector like a jaguar at a gazelle. He caught the man around the neck, knocked Hector's arm up toward the sky just as the gun went off. The gunshot cracked the silence like thunder and sent a hundred tropic birds screaming from the treetops around them.

The gun skittered across the ground and bumped the SUV's front tire.

"Oliver!" Felicity yelled as Carlos leapt forward to help his friend.

Carlos delivered two sharp jabs to Oliver's kidneys before he was forced to release Hector. Carlos locked his arm around Oliver's throat, the move opening his ribcage for a savage jab of Oliver's elbow, then another and another. Carlos grunted, his grip loosened, and Oliver reached up to grab the man's arm as he widened his stance to flip him over his shoulder the way Felicity had seen him and Diggle do a hundred times before. But Carlos seemed to know too, because he reached down and back, flicked his hand in a weird loop, and suddenly there was a switchblade in it.

"Look out!" Felicity screamed as she ran forward, but it was too late.

The blade arced down, sank deep into Oliver's shoulder. His face contorted as he roared in pain. Carlos jerked the blade free. Blood – startlingly bight crimson – bloomed across the white fabric of Oliver's shirt, then spread… and spread…

Carlos growled something in Spanish before he spat on Oliver. He brought the thin blade down and low as he shifted his hold on the hilt, clearly preparing to jam it straight into Oliver's back. Into his _kidney_.

Felicity didn't stop – didn't think, _couldn't_ think – just grabbed the thick, stout branch at her feet and rushed him. Her feet skidded on the dirt as she stopped short, squared her stance, and swung. The branch connected with the side of his skull with a strangely satisfying crack. His head snapped sideways, grotesquely showing off the baseball sized dent in his temple. The knife tumbled from his hand to the ground a second before Carlos' his knees went boneless and dropped him in a heap in the dirt.

Oliver dove for the knife, rolled away from Hector as Hector recovered the gun. The Ecuadorian straightened his arm sweeping up to aim the muzzle straight at Oliver as Oliver snapped his forward. The blade practically sizzled through the air, struck Hector high in the chest, and knocked him backward.

Swearing, the driver clutched at the weapon as he scrambled back into the SUV. The engine roared as he stomped on the accelerator. Tires spewed dirt and rock into the air before they found purchase and sent the vehicle lurching forward, the door swinging wildly back and forth before finally catching and latching. The SUV's back-end fishtailed wildly as it took the turn in the road too fast. A moment later, it was completely gone from view.

Felicity dropped the branch and rushed to Oliver's side. She dropped to her knees next to him and grabbed his arm. Blood soaked his shirt, slicking the fabric against his back and staining her fingers. "Oliver? Oh my God. Oliver?"

He grimaced. "I-I'm all right."

"You're not all right. You're _bleeding_. You need a doctor." Frantic, she looked around. "I need to stop the bleeding."

"Felicity." Oliver caught her hand. He gave it a tight squeeze. "I'm all right."

The lack of panic sank straight through her. He was alive. He was all right. Of course he was all right. Being stabbed in the shoulder was probably one of the easier injuries he'd ever sustained. The man was the fricking _Arrow_. He'd been drowned, shot, tortured, poisoned, shot again… This? He could survive this. He had to survive this.

Felicity collapsed onto her butt. "W-What do we do now?"

Oliver groaned as he rose up on one knee. He steadied himself against her shoulder and glanced down the road. "We get out of here before Hector returns with his friends."

"Why did they…" Her brain seemed sluggish. Felicity gave herself a hard mental shake. "What did they want?"

"My guess? For Queen Consolidated to not perform a surprise inspection of their factories."

"Drugs?" she guessed.

"Drugs. Guns. Human trafficking. Who knows. But I think it's safe to say that when we get back to Starling City our VP of operations down here is totally fired."

That would be Ernesto Lopez, Felicity thought. The man who'd sent her and Oliver off with Hector and Carlos promising his "two most trusted men" would take good care of them and show them the sights before taking them on a tour of the factory.

Carlos Delgado. The man who talked of his pretty wife and two children.

She found herself staring into Carlos' dead, open eyes. Bile burned the back of her throat.

Oliver shifted in front of her, cutting off her view of the body. "Don't," he said sharply.

She swallowed. "He's…"

"He would have killed both of us, Felicity." He put his hand on her shoulder. "You didn't have a choice."

There was always a choice. Wasn't there?

He tightened his grip, forcing her to focus on him. Sweat and dirt stained his face. "We've gotta get out of here," he told her. "Night comes fast around here and we need to put as much distance between us and this road as possible."

Felicity forced herself to her feet before she helped him stand. "Diggle will come looking for us when we don't come back to the plane," she said.

Oliver grunted. "He'll probably have his own problems. Do me a favor. Get the gun."

She hurried to the weapon and grabbed it. It was way heavier than it looked. She started to look toward the body.

"Felicity."

She jolted, her eyes swung back to Oliver.

He crossed to her, his arm folded across his chest and his hand curved around his injured shoulder. "Go wait over there," he said as he took the gun from her hand.

She obeyed without argument, chewed her thumbnail as she watched him tuck the gun against the small of his back. He crouched next to Carlos and went through the man's pockets with stunning efficiency. Clearly something he'd done before. Finally, Oliver rolled the dead man out of his jacket. He wadded it up, tucked it under his arm as he stood, and then jogged back to her.

"Bandages," he told her before she could ask.

He reached for her hand as a low rumble filled the air. It was faint at first, then grew louder until Felicity swore she could feel it vibrating up through the soles of her sandals, into her legs.

"What is that?" she asked just as a truck – large and lumbering and moving far slower than the SUV had – began to ease around the bend in the road. Felicity's shoulders sagged. "Oh thank goodness."

"Shit!" Oliver swore.

"What… Oliver!" Felicity gasped as he seized her hand and bolted for the trees, practically dragging her along behind him.

Felicity didn't know how she kept up, but she did – two running strides for every one of his. Brambles and branches slashed as her face, practically blinding her, as they dodged rocks and broken tree trunks that seemed to spring from nowhere, and as they plunged deeper into the jungle, a hail gunfire gave chase.

 

**~*~**

[Learn more about the Olicity Fan Fic Challenge](http://smoakandarrow.tumblr.com/post/85950138689/getting-through-the-break-olicity-flash-fiction)


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